All Girls are Insect Monsters – Part 2

Do not read this if you did not P.F. Chills' Grosslumps: Tales to Irritate Your Spook Glands (2015) (yes, it is a real book!), this is my sequel to a story from that book:

All Girls are Insect Monsters – Part 2

Returning to school after the bizarre mishap at the party was a bit weird. Kyle, Rebekah, I and other students who attended the party were all well altered in ways. We had a pop quiz, thankfully it was not about insects. I guess I did alright, I was a little nervous, but I hung in there. The bell rang and I slowly walked to Mrs. Fairweather’s desk to give her my test. “Wait” Mrs. Fairweather told me. I turned back to her with an “uh-oh” expression as if I thought she found out about the party and blabbed to all our parents especially mine. Before I get into our conversation, I will address that the party was neatly wrapped up before my parents even got back, as if I cared that much. “Sammy” Mrs. Fairweather said bridging her glasses on the tip of her nose, I gave her an apple just in case, “any worms in it” she asked me as if I was going to poison her, “no, ma’am”, I replied, “thank you” she softly said. She paused and then continued, “About the other day”, “great” I told myself, “Want to insult me more” I asked to myself. Before I knew it, Mrs. Fairweather held out her hand; she unbelievably held out her hand, as a little boy puppy would to his new owner after discovering it was in serious trouble. “I apologize for shutting you down like that in front of everyone, it was very unprofessional of me. I cannot excuse my behavior, it was disgusting beyond words, you did not deserve it, especially from an adult, especially from your teacher. Teachers, unfortunately, can be quite the bully too, but that does not mean they should be. Teachers should not encourage bullying from students or assist in bullying, and I cannot apologize enough for what I did. It was not my right at all. You have enough problems of your own Sammy, and if you want to discuss any of them, I am here.” I sighed and could not believe she was apologizing, who put her up to this. “Thank you” I softly mouthed to her.

“I just wish” my teacher went on, pausing a bit ("oh, here it comes" I thought), “You will do something about your weight. Sweetie, I am not trying to demean you now, but people, especially the children at school are bullying you relentlessly, adults cannot always protect you, and your parents probably put you down for it at home … How are they by the way?” “Fine” I said without much consideration. “They returned from their marriage cruise” I added. “Fascinating” she replied, “Good for them. Are they getting along?” “Better” said, “Well … at least with each other.” She then asked the daring question, “How are they treating you, Sammy? Are they hurting you?” “No” I said rather abruptly. “They are just there, I suppose. Every night for dinner, I eat with them in our living room, the elephant in the room when they have nothing to discuss, literally I suppose” Mrs. Fairweather sighed a bit hurt I was depreciating myself, “I guess I am half the child my parents probably did not want” I tried to say with a bit of humor, but she did not buy it. “Sammy” she said sympathetically, “Do not say that about yourself.” “As you said Mrs. Fairweather, ‘fat’ and ‘unloved’” I told her. Mrs. Fairweather sighed again further regretting insulting me days before. She got up, walked over to me and held out her hands getting ready to embrace me in a hug. “Do you want me to sit down and talk to your parents?” She said with concern, rather motherly. “No, Ma’am” I replied, in fact, I felt like crying. I was not used to people caring about me, at least not many, at least not that greatly. "It might not seem like it, but you are loved Sammy, there are people who do care about you - me included. I am sure your parents do. ("I doubt it" I wanted to say) I am not your friend. I am not your parent, but I am your teacher and it is my job to care for your safety, in any way I can when you are in my care."

Mrs. Fairweather noticed and put her hands across my face, gently, “Now I am crying” she exclaimed. “Hey” she changed the subject, “Do you want to retry your paper, you can present it to me now if you like?” “Mrs. Fairweather, thank you, but can I do something else for makeup? I think I am through with bugs” I replied. “I felt as if I had many coming out of me” just days ago, I joked – well, at least intending it as a joke to her, she did not have to know, “Maybe I can digest bombardier beetles and pop in the process.” Mrs. Fairweather was getting weary of my self-depreciation humor. “Stop that now Sammy” she chided as if I was much younger than I was. “Sure Sammy. As your teacher, I can and will help you. I want to.” She offered. “Are you hungry? We can go for a quick bite in the cafeteria and talk about a plan.” I felt a little pressure. I was getting a little nervous. “Sammy?” she asked as if something was right about to happen. I felt and heard my belt bursting; I looked down and was downright humiliated, it just came off, and so quickly. “Sorry” I apologized, mortified beyond any rational doubt. Mrs. Fairweather was taken back herself, but assured me, “That is alright Sammy, thankfully it is just the two of us here.” She recognized how embarrassed I was and felt tremendous pity. “Go home, take care of yourself, and I will phone your parents. You should not live like this. No one should.” She assured me placing her hands on my shoulder. "Thank you," I said allowing myself to cry on her shoulders.